The Darling Dahlias and the Cucumber Tree

“It would have been beautiful,” Mildred said, looking up. “These are gorgeous old trees. Just look at that huge sycamore, with the lovely peeling trunk. And that cucumber tree, in bloom. Must be the same age as the one out front, on Camellia Street.”


“Dahlia said that her mother planted a half dozen or more cucumber trees along Camellia Street,” Bessie replied. “Back then, you know, it was just a country lane, running along the front of the mansion’s grounds.” She sighed. “The trees are all gone now, except for the one in front of the Dahlia House. There was a splendid tree in front of Magnolia Manor—growing there since before the house was built. It was a sad day when it got struck by lightning. The cucumber tree has to be the prettiest tree God ever invented.”

“Magnolia acuminata,” Ophelia amended, in Miss Rogers’ prim voice, and all three of them laughed.

Mildred had wandered a few steps away, looking curiously at an area of broken ferns. She bent over and parted the greenery to have a closer look, then called over her shoulder, “Girls, come look at this.”

“What is it?” Bessie asked, looking over her shoulder.

“Looks like somebody’s been digging up plants,” Mildred said. “In the last few days, too. The dirt is fresh.” She stepped back, frowning. “I thought people were supposed to donate plants for the bog garden—not come and dig them up.”

For that’s what they were looking at: a half-dozen mounds of freshly turned soil, among the stones scattered under the cucumber tree. A few of the holes were quite large and deep.

Ophelia and Bessie exchanged wide-eyed glances.

“The ghost?” Ophelia asked breathlessly.

“Ghostly spirits don’t dig real holes,” Mildred pointed out.

“Ghostly spades don’t clink, either.” Bessie frowned. “You don’t suppose somebody was looking for a plant, do you? But if that’s what it was, why didn’t they just ask, for pity’s sake?”

“Might’ve been a rare plant,” Mildred remarked. “Maybe we’d better put up a no-trespassing sign.” She looked at her wristwatch. “Listen, girls—I’ve only got another half hour to work on that honeysuckle. Then I have to get back home and see how Jubilee is coming with the ironing. Last time, she had to do two of Mr. Kilgore’s shirts over again.”

“What about putting up that sign out in front?” Ophelia asked Bessie.

“We can do that another day,” Bessie said. “Let’s just finish that bed, tote the rubbish to the compost pile, and call it quits. It’s getting hot, anyway.”

They went back to work, and when it was time to stop, Mildred offered to give Ophelia a lift home.

“Thanks, but it’s just a couple of blocks,” Ophelia replied. “I can walk.”

“Nonsense,” Mildred said, opening the car door. “We haven’t had a chance to talk in weeks. Get in.”

Ophelia climbed into the front seat. The two of them had been best friends once, but Mildred and Roger had built a big house not far from the Cypress Country Club and they didn’t see as much of each other now as they used to. But the old friendship was still there, and when they got together, it wasn’t long before they were chattering like a couple of teenagers.

Mildred turned the key in the ignition and started the car. “Did you hear about the girl who stole the car and drove it into Pine Mill Creek and killed herself?”

“Bunny Scott,” Ophelia replied. “Lizzy and Verna said they sometimes ate lunch with her, but I only knew her from the drugstore. Actually, I bought some lipstick from her a few weeks ago. Tangee. She said it would look natural, and it does. Did you know her?” she added curiously. There must have been some point to Mildred’s question.

“No, not really,” Mildred said. She shifted gears, glancing at Ophelia. She had the look of somebody who is carrying a huge secret and is just bursting to tell it. “But I know something interesting about her. I didn’t want to talk about it in front of Bessie. You know how she hates anything that sounds remotely like gossip—even though most of that history stuff she’s so crazy about is nothing but old folks’ gossip.”

Ophelia frowned. She didn’t like gossip, either, but there might be something here that Verna and Lizzy ought to know about, for their investigation. “What do you mean, Mildred? What do you know?”

Mildred looked straight ahead, both hands on the wheel. “Well, on Friday afternoon, I happened to go into the drugstore to buy a bottle of Bayer. When I went in, I couldn’t see anybody. Bunny Scott wasn’t there, nor Mr. Lima, either. Which I thought was sorta odd, you know, because Mr. Lima never leaves that store untended, not after he had all that trouble with boys coming in and stealing candy bars. That’s why he put the candy behind the soda fountain counter, where they can’t reach it.” She sighed. “Really, I just don’t understand modern children. They are so undisciplined. Where are their parents? Don’t they learn anything at Sunday school? Why, when we were girls—”